


Writer's Block

by townofjade



Category: FHS
Genre: Crushes, F/F, Fluff, Lesbians, dont ask what timeframe this takes place during because i dont know, im so bad at tagging fics! also i wrote this a while ago, lets go first fic for this fandom on ao3 being jeg though. stan them, ok... this is good i think, uhhh...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 05:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/townofjade/pseuds/townofjade
Summary: Meg runs into some problems while trying to write a song, and there's only one person she can call for help.





	Writer's Block

**Author's Note:**

> I still don't know how to indent things on this website and it's killing me

Meg furrowed her eyebrows as she glared at the blue lines that ran across the sheet of notebook paper lying in front of her. It was still completely void of even the slightest beginnings of brainstorming. She sighed deeply, blowing her hair away from her face a little as she did so. She had agreed to write a new song for her band over a week ago, but she still couldn’t think of anything to write.

Well, she could, but it’s just that everything she thought of sounded cliché and stilted to her. She definitely wasn’t thinking of anything that she could say out loud or show to her friends without getting laughed at. Really, her problem was that she was a perfectionist- she was so stressed about her words sounding perfect that she couldn’t even get started on any work at all.

Meg sighed again and looked out the window. It was already dark outside- not all the way dark, but in the way where the colour of the sky made everything look more blue-gray than usual. She groaned and hit her head against the desk. She figured that she may as well give up on writing anything worthwhile that night.

Resigned to an unproductive evening, Meg stood up and trudged across her room to her bed, throwing herself onto it with a smooth exhale. She was wearing her pink hoodie from her childhood, as she often did when she was around the house. It was too embarrassing to wear in public- seriously, it had  _ ears _ , but she was still reluctantly comforted by the memories it brought to her of being kids with Spring and Fox, back when things were still reasonably simple, all things considered. In all honesty, nothing quite granted her a sense of equanimity like nostalgia for all the time she spent with her brothers when she was younger. Sure, she loved her bandmates, but The Toys weren’t exactly in the most stress-free situation at the moment.

Speaking of which, she really,  _ really _ needed to get an idea for her song. As much as she hated asking for help... she pulled out her phone and began to scroll through her contacts. It seemed like Bon was always busy lately, Spring couldn’t help because he never had any problem coming up with lyrics, and there was no way she was calling Fox, which only left one person she trusted enough to talk to about this.

Subconsciously holding her breath, she tapped Joy’s contact name. The phone only rang once before she picked up, and suddenly Meg had no idea what to say.

“Meg? What is it?” Joy’s questioning voice sounded through the phone, a reminder that Meg really needed to just call her friends for fun more often.

“It’s... I still can’t think of anything to do for the song,” Meg admitted, defeat in her voice.

“I thought you said you had an idea for it?” She didn’t sound angry, just confused, but it still stung a little to hear.

“Well... the thing is... that wasn’t exactly... true. I’m sorry. It’s just that-”

“It’s okay, Meg.” Joy interrupted before she could even finish explaining herself. “I’m sure you’ll think of something! You aren’t under any pressure or anything, don’t worry. I understand, and I’m sure Bon will too!”

Meg had no idea what to say to that. It sure didn’t feel like she was going to think of anything, but she wasn’t sure if she could admit that after everything Joy had just said. She anxiously chewed at her bottom lip as the silence between her and her best friend grew longer and longer, until it almost felt tangible.

Suddenly, she heard Joy let out a thoughtful hum on the other side of the call. “Hold on, Meg. I think I know what to do,” the other girl said, and then inexplicably hung up.

And so Meg was alone with her thoughts again. She didn’t doubt that Joy was going to do something, or that whatever she did was going to work, because she was Joy, and making people feel better in times like these was one of her many skills. Still, though, she felt an uneasiness in her stomach that she couldn’t fully explain in words. Maybe that was just what happened when she opened up to people, or maybe it was what happened when she talked to Joy. She couldn’t deny that she felt something for the other girl that went beyond friendship, but...

This was uncomfortable to think about. She slipped on a pair of headphones and tried to relax until whatever was about to happen. Sure enough, several songs later, she heard a knock on her door. She began to panic- she wasn’t ready for a guest, and especially not Joy, who she had to admit she wanted to seem composed in front of. That fact wouldn’t make her go away, though, and as if she needed proof the knocking on the door kept going.

Meg reluctantly walked towards the source of the noise, opening the door to reveal Joy standing there. She handed Meg a flimsy, dark red cup that looked like it was from a nearby coffee shop that she was pretty sure she had been to a couple of times. “It’s hot chocolate,” she explained. “I thought you could use some since it’s a little cold tonight.”

“Thank you,” Meg muttered, unsure of what else to say to her unexpected guest.

“You’re welcome. I like your hoodie, by the way. It’s cute!” Joy commented. Meg had forgotten that she was wearing it, and she felt her face heat up as she shoved her hands into her pockets. Joy seemed completely oblivious to how flustered Meg was, though, and her comment seemed genuine, so Meg didn’t know what to say.

“Thanks,” she responded again, and then added, “You look nice too.” It was true, she did. Her hair was down and she was dressed for the evening’s cold weather in a warm-looking sweater and thick, dark gray tights underneath her skirt. Meg, who was already wearing pyjama pants with her old hoodie, felt exceptionally underdressed compared to her.

Joy didn’t seem to care, though, as she walked over to Meg’s couch and sat down. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” she asked.

“I... you’re supposed to be helping me with writing the song,” Meg said, and then immediately internally chastised herself for it.  _ Nice going, you get an opportunity to hang out alone with the girl you like and you act like you don’t want to be around her. _

Joy looked up and made eye contact with her. “I think that what you need to do is stop thinking about it for a little bit. You aren’t going to get any ideas of what to write about if you only think about how much you want them. Wait for something to happen that you want to write about! Now sit down,” she said, patting the couch beside her.

Meg couldn’t really argue with that, so she sat down next to Joy. “Okay. Sure, let’s watch a movie. Any suggestions?” Joy always suggested what movies they watched, although usually Bon was there as well. When she learned that neither of the other members of the band had watched any of her childhood favourite movies, Joy had been devastated and immediately made their friendship practice to watch them whenever possible. Meg acted begrudging about watching them, but she secretly loved them for the time she let her spend with her friends. She honestly saw the appeal- everything else in your life stopped mattering for however long the movie was, and all that existed was laughter and mediocre musical numbers and whether or not the love interest liked the protagonist back.

That was the reason why, as Joy wrapped a blanket around the two of them and started rattling off a list of titles, Meg furiously searched the internet for a streaming website that worked and didn’t look like it would give her too many viruses. Finally, after both of them had finished their deliberation processes, they settled down to watch whatever it was that Joy had picked. They all started to blend together after a while- the teenage archetype characters, the pop songs, the bright colours, the jokes that were trying too hard, the cliché storylines. It was all the same, but it was still nice.

The experience of watching the movies was vastly different without Bon, who always got a little bit too involved in the plot and characters, no matter how much he tried to hide it. When he was there, the space between the three friends was filled with heated discussion from him and Joy, as he asked why that character would have done that to the other one and Joy adamantly refused to spoil the movie for him. Meg would only chime in occasionally to comment on how stupid a certain action taken was, or to hold back a laugh at one of the forced jokes that she secretly thought were kind of funny sometimes.

Now, though, the atmosphere had a different feeling to it. It was quieter, yes, but it was a comfortable silence, unlike the one earlier on the phone, as the two girls curled together, huddled around the laptop. As the ending drew near and the clock ticked further and further towards hours it isn’t a good idea to be awake at, they had long since finished their hot chocolates and Meg realized that she and Joy had somehow moved much closer to each other over the course of the movie. In fact, Joy was leaning her head on her shoulder. She didn’t feel nervous or flustered now, though. She felt calm, and instead of uneasy, her insides just felt warm, if a little fluttery.

In that moment, she realized something. She noticed that Joy had actually inadvertently, or perhaps on purpose, actually helped her cure her writer’s block. Maybe clichés aren’t actually always the worst thing ever, and maybe now she even knew what she was going to write about.


End file.
